


Manwell's Water Refinery

by Talliya



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 2x3, CathHil, CathyXHilde, F/F, M/M, Maxton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talliya/pseuds/Talliya
Summary: Trowa blushed, there was no stopping it. “Sorry, I.” DON’T FUCKING SAY THAT! HE’LL THINK YOU’RE SOME KIND OF CREEP! His mind screamed at him making him pause. The delicate brow quirked at him had his only true answer spilling from his mouth anyway. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so gorgeous.”Violet eyes blinked at him, a stunned expression washing over the man’s face.“I’m sorry, but you asked.”





	1. Lavender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Manniness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/gifts).



> I do not own any rights to Gundam Wing or its characters. This work is not for profit.
> 
> So... this was started as a birthday gift for TheManwell... not sure when exactly her birthday IS... but Leo's are from today (July 23rd) to August 22nd. So I guess in a way it's also for any other Gundam Wing fans that are Leo's. I really hope you like it Manny! Since I'm not actually sure when yer birthday is, perhaps this will at least be completely finished by it? I'd planned on having the whole thing done by today, but obviously that didn't happen as it decided to be far more than just the one-shot as I'd intended it to be.

The smell of lavender drifted on the breeze as Trowa made his way to the coffee house down the street from his work. The tall imposing building he worked in as an attorney for the less fortunate generally made his very specific clientele not want to show up at it. But he couldn’t help the building the company he worked for owned, so he did his best to meet his clients on their terms. Hence his going to a small coffee house at two in the afternoon. The smell on the sidewalk had him wondering if some woman with far too much perfume had recently walked by. While the sidewalks weren’t crowded there was a flow of people milling about on them, so it was possible. He wasn’t generally one for drinking coffee as the very smell of it was nauseating to him. But his newest client had insisted on the coffee house. He figured he would get an ice tea or something while he was there, maybe convince his client to let him buy his coffee.

After his meeting with the poor man who just wanted the right to visit his daughter once in awhile he headed back to the office. It was always the same dynamic, he couldn’t understand what was so hard to understand. Why couldn’t ‘normal’ people understand that having a mental disability didn’t somehow make the person with it... not a person. They were people just like everyone else and they deserved to see their children or use the bus, to be able to get into buildings for work, food, housing, or whatever else the building could be for. The still lingering smell of lavender on the air at the same location as previously had him jerking from his thoughts and stopping to look around. He stood next to a two story building with a filigreed window that claimed the business within was called Manwell’s Water Refinery, the door was open. Curious in spite of himself Trowa wandered through the door.

There were several women listening as a man stirred a boiling pot over a bunsen burner. Trowa presumed that was where the smell was coming from as the man seemed to be explaining how to make lavender perfume. The man looked up and glanced Trowa’s way just as he was about to turn and leave having deduced what he had entered to find out, suddenly Trowa was a deer caught in headlights. He couldn’t move, and honestly didn’t want to. He’d noted the man’s long braid, his t-shirt stretched enticingly over well-formed muscles, the jeans that fit just right, even the black combat boots the man was sporting. But before he turned to look at him he hadn’t realized just how beautiful the guy was. His skin was the kind of bronze from too much sun, his sable hair so thick it made Trowa’s fingers twitch wanting to touch it, his eyes were violet of all colors, and his face was sculpted perfectly, those sensuous lips quirking at the corners the longer he stared.

“And that’s all there is to it.” A happy voice penetrated his sudden stupor and Triton shook himself mentally and blinked several times. He had never been under any illusions about who or what he was sexually attracted to but he had never been so completely floored by a man’s looks before. His voice was sexy as hell too, a deep, furred, roll in the hay if he’d ever heard one. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Trowa nearly jumped out of his skin not having heard the man walk over to him, or all of the women leaving as he was now alone in the room with the man. “Sorry. I was just wondering why the sidewalk smelled of lavender.”

The man chuckled, “Yeah, leaving the door open is my only real selling tactic. That and word of mouth.”

“This shop is new isn’t it?” Trowa asked as he finally looked around the narrow space. The walls were lined with bottles of various shapes and sizes, jars of ointments, and seemingly empty containers.

“Yeah, I just opened two days ago. I make custom perfumes, oils, and ointments.”

“Ahh.” Trowa nodded his head, that explained a lot. “Were you teaching a class just now or?”

Another chuckle, Trowa could get addicted to that sound. “Yes. I teach the basics of perfume to people willing to learn. My friend Hilde told me that the classes should be something I offered from the get-go when I opened here.”

Trowa nodded, classes for something so unique would pique the interest of the monied class in the city.

“You’d been about leave hadn’t you, when I looked over?”

The question brought his eyes over to meet the store owner’s. He swallowed hard, fought the butterflies in his stomach and answered. “I was, yes.”

“So why didn’t you?” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly like he was suspicious of Trowa’s motives.

Trowa blushed, there was no stopping it. “Sorry, I.” DON’T FUCKING SAY THAT! HE’LL THINK YOU’RE SOME KIND OF CREEP! His mind screamed at him making him pause. The delicate brow quirked at him had his only true answer spilling from his mouth anyway. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so gorgeous.”

Violet eyes blinked at him, a stunned expression washing over the man’s face.

“I’m sorry, but you asked.” Trowa shrugged a shoulder, then his pager took that moment to squawk at him, looking down at it he frowned. “Shit. Um, I’ve gotta go. Sorry.” He didn’t look at the other man again before racing out the open door and back down the sidewalk to his office building as he was late for his next meeting. And Trowa T. Barton made it a point to never be late to meet with a client.

\---

Duo had decided to set up shop in Detroit at Hilde’s insistence. One, she lived there so he’d actually get to spend time with his best friend. Two, the place was a hot spot for the strange and Fae-like so his seriously pointed ears wouldn’t stand out so much, hers didn’t after all. Third, hmmm, he’d had a third reason... oh yes! His business of perfume making wouldn’t seem so strange either and people there would actually be able to afford it and want to buy it. Ah, and four, he wouldn’t have to expend himself using so much magic in order to stay in business. You know, because people in Detroit would actually want to buy perfumes and pay for his services in making custom scents. The need to put compulsions on his wares hopefully wouldn’t be needed. His earnings had been rather meager even with the compulsions on his wares in Colorado Springs, he sincerely hoped it would be better in Detroit.

Also at Hilde’s insistence he posted up that he would be teaching classes on making perfume from opening day, though he set the price for classes rather high. He had only begun with the classes in Colorado Springs when he couldn’t even break even with the compulsions. It was only the second day open in Detroit and he had already taught two classes that morning, was currently in a third, and had another planned later in the afternoon. Hilde was a genius.

He looked up as the small chime he’d set up on the door jingled in the back room, barely perceptible to the human ear, but quite loud to his own. A tall man, maybe only a few inches taller than himself, in perfectly fitted black and grey pinstriped slacks, black loafers, a light grey button-up shirt with the collar laid flat, and a black tie stood just inside the door. Duo mentally shrugged, he wasn’t the first man to enter the building since he’d opened it, and went back to teaching his class. After a few minutes he realized that the man was still standing there a curious look on his face, so Duo met his eyes this time, actually physically moving his head up to look at the man.

It seemed he was about to leave, and Duo would have shrugged it off again, but then the man just stared at him like meeting Duo’s eyes had somehow made him go retarded, the idea made Duo smile. Duo finished his class and walked the ladies to the door before coming back to stand beside the human statue in his shop. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He watched with a smirk as the man jumped slightly before stumbling over an explanation. The man asked a few questions and then shocked the hell out of Duo by saying he was gorgeous. The man left at a run before he could come up with a response to that. Was the guy into really old decrepit men? Duo knew his glamour hadn’t slipped, it never slipped, he was cursed with it for fucks sake. Both he and Hilde had royally pissed of their Queen and she had cursed them to look like decrepit humans with overly large pointed ears. It was horrifying. He knew people spoke to him only because the elderly generally knew what they were talking about with the kinds of things he did in his shop. Plus, no one else worked at his shop, so they didn’t have much choice if they had questions. Yes, that man was very weird indeed.


	2. Evergreen

Several weeks went by with Trowa heading to the small coffee shop to meet with his client before starting court dates and passing by the strange scents that wafted into the street from Manwell’s Water Refinery. On this day however he wasn’t working, done up in a blue tank top and an old beat up pair of blue jeans, his own black combat boots and the jewelry he wasn’t allowed to wear at work he made his way back to the shop. Some of the women he worked with had been raving about the place to all and sundry for the last week, saying how the wizened old man who ran the place had such a talent for making scents.

Trowa was confused by this as he was sure the man he’d spoken to before had been the guy running it, not just owning it. He supposed he could have gotten someone to work for him in recent weeks however. But he was more than a little curious to find out. Plus the women had been complaining yet again, a valid complaint, that the building stank. Trowa had tried every year he had worked for Stjepan & Markell Legal, and he’d been working there since it’s inception eight years ago, to get them to set up air conditioning in the building. They hadn’t yet, so summer time was awful. The place stank of sweat and ruined dreams but his best friends Mark Stjepan and Stephen Markell for whom the business was named didn’t seem to care. Trowa however, cared quite a lot. As did all of the women who worked for them.

Trowa had forgone having an office of his own, even though he’d certainly earned one, so that he could situate his desk by the front door. It was another bonus to his specific clientele that they wouldn’t be enclosed in a tiny (or large-ish) space while they spoke to him if they did finally have the courage to walk through the imposing hardwood doors. But that hadn’t been why he’d done it. His first year there he had his desk in a back cubicle... he’d nearly died of heat stroke before finally bringing his own box fan to the office to circulate some air flow. The next year he’d taken his seniority and moved his desk by the front doors - the only things in the eight story building that opened were the doors. The rather imposing double doors at the front, the small door to the back alley and dumpsters, and the doors to the individual offices, elevators and the roof were the only things that opened. NONE of the windows did. They were all floor to ceiling pieces of shit that did nothing but amplify sunlight.

And the kicker was, they weren’t allowed to prop any of the doors leading outside open. The rooftop door had been their last hope, until birds and bats ended up nesting in their offices because of it. The alleyway was dangerous because... well it’s an alleyway in Detroit. ‘Nough said. The front door still made no sense to Trowa, he was sitting right next to it after all. Originally he put his desk as close as he could so that he COULD prop it open and have his box fan churn in fresh air. But Mark and Stephen insisted it wasn’t professional. Trowa maintained that it wasn’t professional to have their clients sit in pools of their own sweat while they were forced to smell the perfume of forty sweaty afraid-to-lift-their-arms lawyers and dozens more clerks, secretaries, receptionists, and other staff forced to melt day in and day out. But even with his status as their best friend and a fellow senior associate they didn’t listen to him.

It was honestly no chore at all for him to meet with his clients anywhere besides his office building. The fact that most of his clients had some form of disability, physical or mental, and couldn’t handle the austerity of his office building wasn’t something that hindered his care of them. When they did come to his office he tried to make the meeting as short as possible, one, so they didn’t have to melt along with him, and two, so there was less chance of their anxiety over everything to become too much for them to bear.

He’d lost his best friend Solo to suicide while they were in high school because their stupid prep school refused to believe that a rich kid could have a mental disability. That his anxiety attacks were simply a call for attention. It always seriously pissed him off when he found people who thought like that. It was why he looked for those with handicaps to help, because he knew first hand they were never given a fair chance at life. He fought long and hard over the years he’d been an attorney to give disabled people the chance they deserved to live life just like everyone else.

He sighed and shook his head willing the thoughts away as he entered the fragrant shop. He looked around, seeing several women shopping around, there seemed to be a generic perfume making class going on in the back corner but it was an older woman teaching it. She certainly wasn’t a ‘wizened old man’. She was maybe ten or twenty years older than himself, somewhere in her forties or fifties. He moved around to one of the walls that seemed to be filled with burning oils. He knew if he was going to get something to at least cover the scent of the office that it couldn’t be incense or anything that actually smoked.

He felt a presence at his back and stilled, wondering if it was the man who owned the place or not. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Trowa couldn’t stop the shiver that the man’s voice sent down his spine, but before he could turn to answer one of the women he worked with moved over to them. “Oh Trowa, I hope you’re here to get something for the office. Ugh, Mr. Maxwell, you wouldn’t believe how badly it smells.”

The braided man chuckled and Trowa nearly melted into the floor as he turned around to face them, “That is exactly why I’m here actually. We can’t use incense and we all know that individuals wearing perfume simply makes it worse. I was hoping such a uniquely specific shop would have something that will work.”

The woman giggled, “Oh wonderful! If you do find something, do let us all know. You know we’re all more than willing to pool our money together to get something to save us all.”

“Hey Carla! Were you going to sign up for next week’s class with me or not?” Another of his co-workers called from the back corner of the room.

“Please do Ms. Cairn, Mrs. Worley is a wonderful teacher.” Purple eyes smiled at her and Trowa actually felt jealous.

“Oh, you are the sweetest old man.” Carla dimpled before wandering off presumably to sign up for the perfume making class next week.

Trowa blinked, ‘old man’? Carla was about five years older than himself and he was certain that this man was no older than himself... certainly not someone Carla would call an old man.

“So... exactly where do you work?”

That wonderful voice brought him back from his thoughts. He looked over and slightly down into those violet eyes and had trouble getting his voice to work, but managed it somehow. “I work over at Stjepan & Markell Legal. I’ve been trying to convince them since they bought the building eight years ago to put in air conditioning, but they still haven’t done it. And while I may make a lot, I don’t make near enough to cover the cost of that myself... plus our building would be out of commission for a while and that’s no good. Which is probably why they haven’t done it yet.”

“So you need something to make it not smell of sweaty people?” The question was asked with a single raised brow and a quirk to those perfectly kissable lips.

Trowa gave himself a mental shake and then sighed wearily, “That would be nice, yes.”

“Hmmm, well simply adding more smell certainly won’t make anything better. As you said about perfumes.” The gorgeous man put a crooked finger to his lips and tapped his toe for a few long seconds before his whole being lit up like a Christmas Tree on Christmas Eve. “I know, perhaps a fragrance lamp will help with your problem! This way if you please.”

Trowa tilted his head at the man’s way of speaking, noting that it was different with others in the store than it had been with just himself the other day. It seemed more stilted and formal... older. His eyes followed a jean covered ass as the man began moving down the wall towards the front of the store. With a shake of his head Trowa followed him.

Mr. Maxwell stopped in front of a large bookshelf that held various glass bottles with wicks and stone toppers. “These are fragrance lamps. They use a certain type of oil that will oxidize the air and basically destroy odors.”

Intrigued Trowa looked them over, with another tilt of his head he asked, “How do they work exactly? What do you do with them?”

The man smiled at him and grabbed a simply one off of the shelf and held it up, “What you do, is take the lid off, the stone out and attached wick out, and fill the bottle with as much of the oil as you’ll need so long as you don’t go over two thirds of the way full. It needs that extra space to breathe and work its magic. Then you’ll put the wick in like so, and the stone solidly back in place. Put the solid cap back on and wait for the wick to soak up some of the oil, about twenty or so minutes. Then you’ll remove the cap again and light it. But only have it be flaming for two or so minutes, no longer than four, before blowing it out. Then, at least with this model, you can place the decorative cap back on it. Don’t put the solid one on unless you don’t plan to use it anymore.”

“Hmmm, sounds rather simple but complicated at the same time. Lots of things we’ll have to time.” Trowa chuckled, “But I’ll take one. There’s no reason not to try it and see how well it could work and what the problems at the office will be having one. If any problems are to be had.”

The man smiled at him, beamed really, before reaching for one that was in a box already along the bottom shelf. “Do you know if you want a scent or just to have it clean the air?”

Trowa thought for a moment, “I think we’ll go with a scent first, that way we can tell how far from my desk it works and if we’ll need others just on the main floor. If it works well I’ll see about convincing Stephen and Mark to get some for every level.”

“Do you have a scent you’d like to try? I can mix anything you want, but we could have it already on the floor.” Those adorable eyebrows quirked at him as the man spoke.

Slightly distracted by his inner demons telling him to brush the stray strands of hair out of the man’s face he had to force himself to look away before he could answer. “It’s kind of cliche I guess, but do you have an Evergreen sent? Like Pine or something?”

The man snorted a smirk forming on his face, “That we do.”

Trow watched the man as he started to walk away to a counter situated just off of being in the middle of the room. Noting that other people were there and that he was rather obviously staring at the man’s ass he turned his head to the windows as he followed after, and paused in his step, foot part way off of the ground. He blinked repeatedly and placed his foot down, but the image of the sexy guy who owned the place didn’t change. He quickly actually looked back at the man, yep still a hot guy around the same age as himself. He turned back to his reflection in the window... really old guy whose pointed ears were far more pronounced. He looked back and forth several times noting that, yes, it really was the same person, though even the clothing seemed to change - the older gentleman being in more sedate clothing than the leathers the younger was currently sporting.

His brain was ready to either explode or shut down completely by the time that wonderful voice called across to him, “Is there something wrong?”

Trowa’s head jerked over to meet the man’s eyes and he slowly shook his head, “I literally have no idea.” He moved over to the man’s side, “If I took your picture, what would you look like?”

Violet eyes blinked at him, something shimmered across them, then faded. “The same as I do now.”

“Oh my Mr. Barton! You don’t really think that people will look different if you take their picture do you?” One of the secretaries from S&M asked of him.

“I... of course not. I’m sorry.” Trowa shook his head a self-deprecating smile gracing his face. He turned back to the man and forced a happier expression.

The man eyed him suspiciously but held out a bottle of evergreen scented oil for his lamp, “These oils are made specifically for these lamps, don’t use them for anything else.”

“Yes of course. Thank you for all of your help.” Trowa gave him a real smile as he was directed to the checkout counter and the young man behind the till.

\---

Duo watched as the intriguing man left his store - not running this time. He had to wonder what that odd question had been about. Perhaps... no way. He went completely still as the idea started to form, a panicked look crossed his face before he could school his features not to show it. He didn’t currently have the time to deal with this! He had work to do, scents to make, classes to schedule, Hilde to call when work was over!

As he wished Mrs. Worley goodnight and flipped the sign from ‘Blooming’ to ‘Closed’ he mentally tallied everything he was going to say to Hilde. He really hoped that he was wrong about this Trowa Barton... He debated with himself over the outcome if what he thought was going on really was as he drove home.

He dialed Hilde’s number and waited two rings before she picked up. Without preamble he began, “Hilde I think I have a situation.”

“Oooooh, tell me more.” There was a giggle in the back and Hilde had answered as if she were loath to depart from whatever she had been doing before he called. But she seemed intrigued enough to stay on the phone with him.

“I think this guy can see through the glamour Queen Relena put on us.”

The other end was quiet for long moments and he was able to tell that somewhere nearby someone else was watching a comedy show on Hilde’s television. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, when he first came in several weeks ago,” Duo blushed at the memory, “He said he thought I was gorgeous. I thought he was some weirdo who was somehow into decrepit old men. But today... he came in and bought one of those fragrance lamps. At one point he was looking from me to my reflection in the window repeatedly. He even asked me what I would look like if he took my picture. I think he sees me as me, except indirectly he sees the glamour.”

“Holy shit. Do you know his name?” Hilde seemed perfectly serious for a change, it was nice to see that side of her sometimes.

“Inadvertently yes. Some of his co-workers were in the shop, one called him by his first name the other by his last.” Duo hedged, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the name out loud. He felt like it would somehow change his fate.

“So, what is it?”

He sighed, “Trowa Barton.” His stomach dropped and his heart soared, yep... he was pretty sure he was doomed.

Hilde squealed and clapped her hands, the phone obviously cradled between her ear and shoulder. “Oh this is SO PERFECT! I KNEW I had to get you here!”

“Hilde. The fuck are you talking about?”

Silence of another few moments then, “I’m sorry. I kind of hoped you’d find your mate when I asked you to come to Detroit.”

Trowa closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then flopped into the cushy chair beside his end table where the phone was. He swallowed hard, “My mate? Why would you think I’d find my mate by coming to Detroit?”

“Honestly? Two reasons. First, I found mine here. Second, I found the most perfect guy for you here! He’s just the sweetest. Granted I haven’t actually met him in person myself yet... but my mate is his older sister... so I know next to everything about him.” He could picture Hilde tapping her fingers as she listed off her reasons.

“So... this perfect guy?” Duo queried.

“Okay, so... Trowa Barton is his name, he’s an Attorney, does tons of pro bono work, only works with clientele that are handicapped in some way. He has a dog and two cats, he believes in fairies and will actually argue for their actual existence with people who don’t.” Duo smirked, he argued with people about that too. “He’s totally gorgeous by the photographs I’ve seen. He’s old enough that Cathy doesn’t think he ever plans on getting married, though she also suspects that that’s because he’s gay and there aren’t really a lot of options for him.”

Duo let out a sigh of one long suffering, “Does he have rather unique bangs that seem to always hide one devilishly green eye no matter what angle you look at him from?”

Hilde snorted, “As far as I know? Yes.”

“Fuck me.”

“I’m sure he would if you asked him.” Hilde giggled at him.

“So, you’re thinking he can see through it because of the stipulation that our true love will see us for what we are?” He had to ask to make sure.

“I am yes. Though, good luck with trying to figure out how to deal with it. He’s a lot more analytical than Cathy is, he’ll try to rationalize it all before simply just believing in it.” Hilde actually sounded concerned for him and a little put out that someone who believed in fairies had to think things to death before simply believing them to be.

Duo groaned, “I hate you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too. Get some sleep slugger.” And with that Hilde hung up the phone.

He shook his head and replaced the phone on the receiver before scrubbing his face with his hands. She was right though, if this man really was his mate... there was a lot to think about and figure out how... to, just... talk to the man about it. He shook his head before doing as Hilde suggested and going to bed.


End file.
